


De Coelesti Hierarchia

by lobotomycastiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Castiel Is An Eldritch Horror, Falling In Love, M/M, Minor Character Death, angel politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:06:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28050621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lobotomycastiel/pseuds/lobotomycastiel
Summary: Seraphim don’t concern themselves with the petty infighting and frenetic chattering of the lower orders. And theycertainlydon’t concern themselves with the savagery of the infernal. Which is why it comes as a shock to Castiel when God gives him a mission that involves both.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 12
Kudos: 43





	De Coelesti Hierarchia

**Author's Note:**

> This is the product of me looking up what a seraph is and finding out that they're at the top of the angelic hierarchy according to some book written by an Ancient Greek philosopher. And then me thinking early season "so righteous you wanna punch him" Cas was really cool and that I wanted to see more of him, but like... dial up the self-righteousness to eleven. 
> 
> This isn't fluff per say, but it IS very self-indulgent. You can blame the SPN watch party Discord for enabling me on this.

Seraphim don’t concern themselves with the petty infighting and frenetic chattering of the lower orders. And they  _ certainly _ don’t concern themselves with the savagery of the infernal. Which is why it comes as a shock to Castiel when God gives him a mission that involves both. 

“Castiel! You weren’t at Choir today, are you unwell?” Anna asks him, and he has to tell her that he’s been assigned a new mission, which means he won’t be able to partake in the Choir or the Proclamations for a while, which she of course gushes over, and which will of course be in the ears of every Seraph and Cherub and Throne in their order within the hour. 

And now, instead of beholding the Glory and Grace of the Lord, and singing His praises across Heaven, he’s in Hell, clutching the ball of ice and pain that is the soul of Michael’s vessel.  _ Michael _ , an Archangel, barely above a foot-soldier, is getting a special vessel plucked from Hell for some reason. And when he brings the pitiful, broken thing to the foot of God’s throne, He tells him that his work is not done, and he must  _ repair _ the wretched creature. 

Anna seeks him out again, as he’s watching the soul in front of him crumble to pieces again, and he’s reminded of why he only associates with the other Seraphim. The Cherubim are far too… enthusiastic for his tastes. They lack the tact and stoicism of the Seraphim. 

“Brother, this place has been so  _ boring _ without you--”

“Sister, while I do appreciate our conversations, this moment is a bit… delicate for me. May we speak later?” 

She takes a step back, having recognized her overzealousness. “Of course, your mission. Godspeed, Castiel.” She vanishes, and he goes back to his repairwork. Michael’s vessel seems to actively resist being fixed, as if he doesn’t want to be saved. Nothing that can’t be amended with a few commands. 

“You  _ will _ be saved, Dean Winchester,” his voice resonates throughout Heaven, echoing back around the two of them in terrifying symphony. “I do not know why God has chosen to pluck Michael out of obscurity and you out of oblivion, but I will not fail my mission.” 

* * *

God tells him to bring Dean Winchester back to Earth, which is where his private mission becomes much more interesting. He also gets to have a vessel - James Novak - and the experience is more uncomfortable than anything else, but it’s  _ new _ , which makes it exhilarating. 

God also debriefs him on what is happening - the Apocalypse. Dean Winchester is to be prepared to be a vessel for Michael, who is to fight Lucifer, the fallen Archangel who will take Samuel Winchester as a vessel. Now he understands why Michael was picked, then; Archangels make good bludgeons, and Michael is one of the better ones. He has half a mind to go back to Anna and tell her this, because surely she would get a good laugh out of it, but he remembers his purpose and does not stray. 

But then… then he meets the intended vessel of Michael, and he bonds with him over television shows and curly fries and 99-cent beer. It’s a curious thing, becoming attached. There is no physical sensation of growing together like vines, nothing that clues him in on how they’ve become inseparable, but one day Dean Winchester is attacked by some abomination coughed up from Purgatory, and Castiel knows that he would sacrifice himself for him. 

When he finds out, Michael is livid. He tells Castiel that Dean was  _ his _ vessel, and how  _ dare _ he entice Dean into preferring another Angel to him, and Castiel laughs in his face. Michael may not be a pawn in the game of Apocalyptic chess, but he’s certainly not a knight. Of course Dean Winchester chose Castiel over him -- he is stronger, more powerful, closer to God than a pissant like Michael could ever hope to be. The only reason God knows Michael exists is because someone from his order got a little too self-righteous and demanding. 

And when poor, piteous Michael comes to take Dean, and Dean refuses, Castiel is there. He tells Dean to shield his eyes, and when he’s sure that he has followed his orders, he crawls out of his vessel, spreads all eight of his glorious wings, revels in the sensation of his rings of fire getting to revolve around him again, and promptly uses five of his thousand limbs to rip Michael apart, atom by atom. 

Heaven says that Castiel has rebelled, has fallen, but he knows the truth - he has risen.

* * *

Of course there’s a war. All Heaven knows is war. And it’s bloody. 

He has the highest order on his side; the Seraphim join him, and the Cherubim, led by Anna, follow. The Thrones can barely stand  _ with _ the other two levels of their order, and they topple easily. Objectively, he has the most power backing him. But Michael is a martyr for the lowest order, and what they lack in power, they make up for in sheer numbers. 

Every Angel, Archangel, and Principality rallies behind Michael’s corpse, and it’s a manhunt for him and Dean. They spend a lot of time hiding in derelict motels, Enochian warding scrawled on the walls using pens stolen from the receptionist. 

They meet the Seven Virtues in Paradise, Ohio, and while five of them can be reasoned or intimidated into joining alongside him, Charity and Temperance refuse, choosing to stay neutral. They should have swallowed their pridefulness and picked a side, however, as Hester runs through the both of them with consecrated silver when she realizes that they won’t give up any information. 

Dean asks him why he killed Michael while they run, Castiel crammed into the backseat of the Impala and laying on the floor to avoid being seen. 

“Because he thought he had a right to you, that’s why.”

* * *

“Cas, for the love of God,  _ stop dismembering people _ ,” Dean commands, and it’s cute when Dean thinks he can order him around, and it’s extra cute when Dean invokes God. He just might indulge him, right after he destroys one last demon. 

When he does stop, the demon’s lifeless vessel slumping against the chip display of the Gas N’ Sip, he turns to Dean, who’s filled to the brim with righteous fury, shaking with it, his body more of a hindrance than a tool. Looking at him, it’s like being at the throne of God all over again -  _ Holy, Holy, Holy _ , went the Proclamations, the Chorus, and he’s filled with the urge to sing them. He hasn’t sung in so long.

“We gotta get you into journaling or something, man.”

And that’s how he starts to learn mercy. 

* * *

Samuel “call me Sam, nobody calls me Samuel” Winchester doesn’t escape Lucifer; doesn’t need to, he never said yes. Infernal blood coursing through his veins like the Flood, and eating away at his humanity like the locusts, and he still said no. Maybe Castiel has underestimated humans. 

And it’s a good thing that Dean taught him mercy, which goes by the name of  _ strategy _ here on Earth, because otherwise Castiel might have killed the younger Winchester on principle alone. 

The Third Heavenly War, as the others are calling it, still rages, and both brothers are clueless on how to stop it. The middle order has all but been eradicated - the Dominions were the first to go, having been the ones who commanded the lowest order. Only a select few of the Powers remain, enough to ensure that Heaven itself doesn’t collapse. Allegedly,  _ Naomi _ , a desk jockey of a Throne whose only friends were her tomes on Heaven’s judiciary practice, is trying to rise above her station and bring order to the chaos, which is laughable at best. 

He tells Dean all of this, and expects him to laugh with him. He doesn’t. 

“So there’s someone out there who could help us stop this?” He sounds hopeful, and well, Castiel still doesn’t  _ like _ the Thrones, but if Dean thinks there’s a chance, he’ll help him. So long as Naomi doesn’t get too close. 

He asks for her, and like a dog to heel, she comes. Thrones are nothing if not obedient. “Castiel? Oh, everlasting is His mercy, I thought you had died!” 

“Naomi, fill me in. How is Heaven? How is God?”

She looks down, and he can feel her pain radiating off of her in pulses. “Heaven is burning, Castiel. And He’s left - gone to ‘set things right,’ to start the Apocalypse and raze the Earth, just like He planned.”

He acknowledges her with a nod. It’s worse than he feared. “And Hell?”

She shrugs. “Anarchy, as usual. Lucifer’s abandoned ship, his forces are regrouping with him, but they’re quiet. With him gone, apparently some crossroad’s demon is at the helm.”

“They put a… a  _ salesman _ in charge of Hell? This is a direct insult towards us, surely.” 

“Maybe not. As a salesman, he can be reasoned with. Manipulated. He could be of use to us in restoring order.”

Castiel shudders. “No. Absolutely not, Naomi. We do not work with aberrations.” 

That’s when Naomi starts to truly defy him. “You have never seen battle, or wickedness, or corruption, Castiel. I  _ have _ . Do you know what the Thrones are tasked with? We mete out divine justice!  _ I _ helped slaughter those who did not paint their doors with lamb’s blood,  _ I _ helped punish the kings who did not bow down to His Glory!  _ I _ understand strategy! And you? You know nothing of the sort! You’re His entertainment. A singing and dancing fool.” 

He feels himself start to slip out of his vessel, the urge to punish her insolence by tearing off her wings hot and acrid in his borrowed throat, but Dean gets in between them, and Sam grabs his arms and restrains him before he can follow through.

“Alright, alright, settle down you two. Naomi, right? Hi, I’m Dean,” Dean smiles at her, charming as ever, and she does not return it. 

“I heard. You’re the one that started the War.”

Dean winces at her tone, and Castiel’s urge to rip off Naomi’s wings comes back in full force. “That’s fair, but now I wanna fix it. How can we help?”

Both he and Naomi think, and they come to the same conclusion. She speaks first. “God and Lucifer want the Apocalypse, but God wants it for a real reason. He wants to make an example of Lucifer, even more so than he already has.”

Castiel finishes her thought for her. “So we have to kill Lucifer. Permanently - no locking him in a cage and leaving him to rot, no killing the vessel and letting the demon remain, he needs to die” 

Sam releases him from his grip, and laughs, nervous. “So we have to both find and kill the  _ literal Devil?  _ Great! Perfect! How do we do that?”

And for the first time in his life, Castiel doesn’t have an answer. 

* * *

But Crowley, the aberration, does. So when Sam and Dean trap him, he interrogates the snivelling coward. Or tries to, because Crowley is apparently too afraid of him to speak. 

He tries his oldest line, “Be not afraid,” but it does nothing. So Naomi takes over, Sam stands guard, watching for demons, and he sits with Dean in front of the abandoned storage locker they’ve co-opted. He can hear Crowley screaming from behind the corrugated metal door, so he creates a small, soundproof forcefield around the two of them. 

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean says, slumping against the concrete wall. He looks exhausted, in need of a break from his burdens. Castiel can provide an approximation of that.

“Why do you call me that?”

“Call you what? Cas?”

“Yes. By all conventions, I should be offended. You’ve removed the part of my name that means ‘of God,’ you know. I should vaporize you for blasphemy, especially considering you’ve outlived your initial purpose. Ever since Michael died, you’ve been a loose end.” 

“The fuck?” Dean scrambles to get up, brandishes a knife even as he backs away in fear. 

“But for some reason, Dean Winchester, I don’t take offense. I find it… endearing.” He backs Dean up against the wall, lightly trails the backs of his fingers along Dean’s jaw. The other man swallows heavily, dropping his knife. Castiel can hear his heart beating in triple-time. He wants to become one with Dean’s form.

So he leans forward and kisses him. Dean startles, panics for a few seconds, and then he relaxes into Castiel’s arms, tension bleeding out of him, eyes fluttering shut. Briefly, for a single moment, he is at peace. 

Of course, that’s when Sam comes back and announces that there are demons on the perimeter. All of them will be reduced to ash for this.

* * *

Sam confronts him in the bedroom of another motel a few hours later, when Dean and Naomi are strategizing about where to get a Power’s blade, the one weapon that Crowley had said could kill Lucifer. 

“So I’m not gonna sit here and pretend I didn’t see what I saw back there.” 

“Humans observe, interact with, and change trillions of individual variables a day. You’ll have to be more specific.” 

“Aren’t Angels supposed to… not be such petty assholes?”

“Aren’t humans supposed to not stuff themselves full of infernal blood?” Passive-aggression is not unfamiliar to him. The politics of Heaven are infinitely more brutal than anything on Earth. 

Sam sputters, and then tries to intimidate him. “If you hurt Dean, I swear, I will end you.” 

“How?” He’s genuinely curious. He’s never interacted with humans for this long before, and this one seems to have a temper. 

“Excuse me?”

“How will you end me, if I harm your brother?” 

“I--,” He pauses. “I don’t know yet, but I’ll find out. There has to be something.” 

Before Castiel can mock Sam even more, Dean and Naomi come back inside, having devised a plan. Naomi looks especially chipper as she announces, “We’re going to break into Heaven!”

Oh, God. Sam Winchester will not need to end him. They’re all going to die. 

* * *

Hannah, one of the few remaining Powers, tasked with keeping the gates of Heaven open to souls, guards the gates fiercely. And despite her being of the middle order, whose very nature is to be obsequious and servile, she does not yield to them. 

Naomi tries to reason with her, which is more mercy than she deserves. “Please, Hannah, we mean you no harm. Just give us your blade, we can kill Lucifer, then all of us can forget this ever happened.” The second she gives up, Castiel will take great joy in ripping Hannah’s blade from her hands. 

Hannah refuses. “You want me to lose the one piece of protection I have? And to what, a disgrace of a Seraph and a Throne who thinks she knows better than our Creator?” 

This has gone on long enough. “Your order serves mine, there is a way that things are done--”

  
  
“My  _ order _ serves God, who if you haven’t noticed, is currently on vacation. You can kill me, but I die loyal to Him.” 

So he does. Impertinence is a terrible trait in any Angel. 

* * *

Rather than being pleased about having the weapon to kill Lucifer, Dean is angry at him for killing Hannah. 

“Cas, we  _ talked _ about this, no more killing, not until we find Lucifer,  _ please _ .” He would have thought Dean begging would sound sweeter, but instead it causes something behind James Novak’s ribs to ache. 

“She was being defiant--”

“She was doing her  _ job! _ She was innocent!”

“I thought you would be more grateful than this! Now we can kill Lucifer and this can be over. I can go back to Heaven, and you and your brother can go back to... whatever it is you do.” 

Dean takes a step back, like Castiel has wounded him. “You’re going back to Heaven?” His voice sounds small, broken. He sounds like he’s been betrayed. 

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I- uh. No reason. Just, usually I’m the one that does the whole ‘breaking up’ thing. Not used to being on this side of it.”

_ Oh _ , now it’s clear. Dean was simply delusional about his significance. “I assure you, Dean, there is nothing to break up. My curiosity about you was contingent on Michael’s claim.” 

Dean laughs, and paces around the room. “Wow, well you sure know how to make a girl feel special.” He tries to leave, but Castiel locks the door, trapping them both inside. “Let me out.” 

“Don’t you dare walk away from me.” 

“Dammit, Cas, at least don’t be a douchey ex-boyfriend about this! Unlock the door.” 

There’s three loud  _ bangs _ against the other side of the door, and then a gunshot, destroying the knob. Sam and Naomi enter, and he can see stains of tacky, semi-dried blood on Naomi’s hands. There’s a faint, yellow haze of infernal magic around both of them, and it clashes vividly against the calm blue of Naomi’s aura. 

“Little warning, Sam?” Dean snaps. 

“Shut up, man, we found Lucifer. You can have your Elle Woods moment later, let’s go.” 

“I wasn’t having a damn Elle Woods moment,” he says, petulant, even as he gathers what little he has into a duffle bag. 

* * *

Lucifer’s stronghold is in Hell Gate, Montana. It’s got all the subtlety of a brick to the face, so painfully characteristic of an Archangel. 

The town is bisected by a canyon, and at the bottom is where Lucifer plans to begin the Apocalypse; setting every demon free and allowing them to roam the Earth, spreading chaos and misery. Getting down would be easy, if the town wasn’t covered in infernal warding against Angels. It means the four of them have to climb down. Sam and Naomi pair off, leaving him and Dean together. Dammit. 

“Usually a guy has to buy me dinner before we break out the ropes,” Dean says as Castiel ties his rappelling line to a nearby boulder. 

“Shut up, Dean.” He focuses on securing his own rope and preparing for the descent. 

“Make me.” 

With a wave of his hand, he makes Dean’s tongue and vocal cords disappear for a brief second. In that second, Dean goes through the entire human range of emotion, and when Castiel restores them, he demonstrates once again that he’s an ungrateful heretic. 

“Was that your version of a prank, you jackass?”

“Maybe. Now you’ll have to ‘get me back,’ right?” 

Dean blinks at him, and hisses to him, livid, “Are you  _ flirting  _ with me? When we’re less than a football field away from the  _ Devil? _ And after you said you only liked me to make Michael jealous? I’m starting to feel like the fourth-hottest chick at Prom.” 

“You never went to Prom. I saw that when I put you back together.” 

Dean says nothing in reply, the silence hanging over them, and they climb down the canyon under the cover of darkness. Sam has Hannah’s blade in his hands, ready to kill any demon they come across. Naomi has her blade as well, and Dean has a demon knife stolen from one of Lucifer’s minions. Without his powers, he realizes, he is defenseless. Seraphs were never meant to be warriors -- he’s out of his depth in this place. 

It forces him to stick close to Dean as the four of them split up to attack the cave the gate is in from all angles. He’d always thought of humans as weak, unable to deny themselves any temptation and unable to protect themselves from the most basic of threats, but seeing Dean kill every demon in their path makes him reconsider. 

He reconsiders a lot of things about Dean, as they walk through the dark cave, illuminated only by a flashlight and ever-shortening glimpses of the moon. Yes, he was meant to be Michael’s vessel, and yes he was  _ very _ entertained when Dean chose him over Michael in the end, but there are other qualities Dean has that make him more than an amusing bauble. 

Qualities that he can’t wax poetic about as he’s grabbed from behind and has a knife against his throat, the blade threatening to free his grace from his vessel. 

“Hey there, choirboy,” the demon purrs into his ear, her sharp nails digging into his arms. 

“Dean,  _ run _ ,” he says, trying to fight her off. The tip of the knife presses into his skin, almost hard enough to pierce it. “I said run!” 

“Why so quick to bail, honeybunch? The party’s just getting started!” As she speaks, three other demons surround Dean, and they’re being dragged towards the heart of the cave. 

“Lucifer’s gonna be  _ so _ happy that we caught a Seraph. He always hated you pompous, holier-than-thou feathered pricks. He might even take me off crossroad’s duty for this.”   
  


“But we  _ are _ holier than Archangels, it’s laid out very clearly in the--” she digs her nails deeper into his arms. Demons, so irrational, always. 

They’re brought to kneel in front of Lucifer’s throne, which adds further insult to the whole ordeal. From sitting alongside God to  _ this _ . Lucifer wasn’t even of the higher or middle orders. Every single demon who helped orchestrate this will burn. 

Because he’s always been an attention-seeking child, Lucifer doesn’t kill them. He keeps them both chained to a remnant of a mine shaft post, and explains his plan to them. All this does for Castiel is confirm that yes, Lucifer was an Archangel, considering how desperately he needs validation for his actions. 

“Of course  _ you  _ wouldn’t get it, Castiel. You’re a Seraph - you never got tossed wings-first into the trenches, never had to deal with the waste of space that is humanity. You never had to have everything you did for these ungrateful apes glossed over, the credit given to your higher-ups who  _ sent you to die! _ I have waited millenia for my revenge on these creatures, and now, I finally have the chance.” 

The cave shakes and steams, the temperature skyrocketing as cracks in the floor reveal molten magma below them. He doesn’t see Sam or Naomi anywhere; Lucifer has them trapped, which means he has to stall him, destabilize him further. 

“Dean, do you trust me?” he whispers, and Dean nods, confusion evident on his face. “Good. Hey, soldier-boy!” He calls out, and predictably, Lucifer whips around at the taunt. 

“What did you call me?” He steps closer to Castiel, grabs his face tightly and forces him to make eye contact. Lucifer’s eyes are the same hazy yellow that he’d seen in Naomi’s aura, and he’s nauseous at the sight. 

“Soldier-boy. You think God hated you? God barely knew you  _ existed _ until you threw your little tantrum.” 

The cave shakes again, the rocks overhead threatening to fall and crush them all. Lucifer throws him against the wall and kicks him in the ribs, rabid with anger, and he keeps talking. 

“Maybe if the first light of the star you were born from was just a little brighter, you’d have been at least a Principality. Really, that’s the only noteworthy domain of your entire order, but  _ no _ , you got made into an Archangel. Such a poor excuse for a… Dean, what’s that lovely phrase you humans have? Consolation prize?” 

Lucifer draws his blade and jams it into James Novak’s shoulder, twisting it in, gouging the flesh. It  _ burns _ , but Sam and Naomi still aren’t here. He needs to keep going. It’s hard to speak with blood in his mouth. 

“Maybe so, but God sure knows I exist now,  _ Seraph _ . God’s left the building, and he’s looking for me.”

Castiel laughs in his face. “I knew you Archangels were all idiots, but  _ really?  _ No wonder you were never trusted with any strategizing. Our Creator sees  _ all _ , Lucifer. If He wanted you, don’t you think He’d be here now? Smiting you?” 

Lucifer moves to put a gash in his throat, and Castiel turns away, trying to protect himself, when he feels a splatter of something on his coat. He looks up, and sees Lucifer’s eyes flicker, the yellow fading from them as Sam Winchester drives a Power’s blade through his chest. 

Hallelujah, they’re saved. 

* * *

Naomi goes back to Heaven, and she asks Castiel to come with her. Even with Lucifer dead, God is still missing and the Angelic hierarchy is still in pieces. Someone has to run things, and she thinks it should be him. 

“I… don’t think I can.”

“Castiel, you’re a Seraph! This is what you’re made for!”

“My domain is made to speak His Glory. Doesn’t seem like there’s much to speak of anymore. And you said it yourself, the Thrones are better-suited to strategy.” 

He sees the shadowy outline of Naomi’s wings bristle, and she sighs in resignation. “Well then, what are you going to do?” 

“Dean Winchester,” he says before he can stop himself, and Naomi’s mouth falls open in shock. He blushes, starts to apologize for how crass he was, but she cuts him off. 

“I still don’t understand, brother. What made you rebel for him? I mean, he’s everything you hate! Disobedient, crass, prideful, I could go on.” 

He thinks back to his time with Dean, before his rebellion; strong, valiant Dean, who upon learning he was raised from Hell and meant to be a vessel for Michael, told Castiel to go fuck himself. Who taught Castiel the importance of free will and gentleness in between teaching him about Funyuns and Pam from The Office. He doesn’t know how to verbalize any of this to Naomi without sounding like a hypocrite, so he lets her into his mind, shows her the cascade of memories he has. 

“He entertains you?” She asks as she sees the image of them at a rodeo bar, Dean in his ridiculous hat, barely hanging onto the mechanical bull. 

“It’s more than entertainment.” He shows her the memory of him and Dean in the gas station, Dean asking him to lessen his cruelty towards demonic vessels. “Any human could pass as entertaining, look at the state of their comedy. Dean, he… he betters me.” 

Naomi exits his memories with a jolt at his words, and he’s not surprised. What a claim for a Seraph to make; their order by definition is the  _ best _ , God’s chosen few that He allows to bask in His Glory and speak it to all of Heaven. For Dean to be bettering him… 

She gives him a full grin. “Godspeed, Castiel. Rejoice with him.” A flutter of wings, and she’s gone. He turns around, and jumps when he sees Dean standing in the doorway. Dean, who’s been there for who knows how long. Dammit. 

“How much of that did you hear?”

  
“Enough to know that you got a crush on me the size of a tank. You’re a dick for acting like you were above being a little gay for me, by the way.” 

He flinches at the words, but Dean comes closer to him, tugs the lapels of his coat until they’re eye-to-eye. “You’re gonna make up for it right now.” 

Dean kisses him, and it feels Holy. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated <3
> 
> While I was writing this, I put together a whole separate document that's about two pages long with _just_ the worldbuilding for this, i.e. what the Heavenly Wars were, the exact details of each order and domain of Angel, how Hell works in this universe, some memes, etc. etc. So if there's any interest in that (or honestly if I find the spare time, I love this little universe I made), I'll probably end up posting it!
> 
> Come chat with me on tumblr at [@earth1610s](https://earth1610s.tumblr.com)!


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